Friday, 29 June 2012

Festival Survival Guide 2012



1) Drink lots of fluids. Nb. Fluids do not mean a four quid can of warm Kestrel lager bought from a scouser in a Bacofoil shellsuit, or an optic shot of tequila from the fetid rucksack of a Kiwi called Skye Bone. Nor for that matter a quack nostrum bought from a hippy in a tee-pee, meant to align your Chi-Chi. What Pandas have to do with mental wellbeing is beyond me, unless it gets you rutting in a portaloo like Russell Brand on an Oyster and Viagra pastie. However, the ‘drinking lots of fluids’ tip becomes decidedly suspect once you are desperate for a slash at 4am and cocooned within all your clothes, sleeping bag and lock-like tent zips.

2) Always wash your hands. Festival Portaloo clichés are many but then so are Tick - Bourne Encephalitis, Legionnaires Disease and Diphtheria. And as for catching something from Nicki’s Minaj! Just don’t go there.

3) Never rope/tape off your campsite. Many will and then you can mock their little Empire building tendencies, guilt free. By the end of the festival the overzealous land fascists will have used up so much Duck and Gaffa tape that they have to abandon the whole sorry mess and buy a new tent. Having said that, Tracy Emin’s ‘Tent’ won first prize at the Big Chav Festival in 2004, where she received a golden nose peg.

4) Eat freshly cooked food, which is thoroughly cooked and still piping hot. So this rules out every catering van on site. United fans may like to try those lovely looking prawn sandwiches over there though. Look! Just over there! In the sunshine.

5) Try to catch The Paul Simon One-Man Band. Basically a retired civil servant called Colin who plays all the big Graceland tunes on his one-man band. He has to make the Ump-Tsa, Ump-Tsa, Ump-Tsa noises with his mouth though, and Ladysmith Black Mambazo through a happy hardcore vocoder. As the Pinner Gazette noted, ‘He has diamonds on the soles of his Birkenstocks.’

6) Take a tent with a lock. There is nothing worse than returning back at night to find the contents gone and your canvas abode doubling up as a Portaloo. Coprophiliacs may disagree. Ibiza’s Zoo Project establishes a new colony at Port Lympne Wild Animal Park. Take a cage with a lock, unless being mauled by a large feral cat is your idea of ‘Avin it Large!

7) Fish and Shellfish can be suspect. Uncooked shellfish such as oysters are a particular hazard. Diarrhoea is a serious consequence. Just imagine a cat flap trying to hold back the Hoover Dam!

8) Take care not to burn. Stay out of the sun at midday. Use what shade is available, unless it is the comedy tent. You will invariably be party to a failed Drama student talking about the time he smoked banana skins and the ensuing hilarity. Sunstroke is preferable. Do also try to remember that Stephen Hawking Unplugged is not a comedy act.

9) Dressing up has become de rigueur at festivals these days, with everyone from small children to pensioners donning the garb of the faux thespian’s wardrobe and acting the giddy goat. Here are some suggestions from iTwat Costumiers of Dalston. Milfuence Fotheringaye, takes us through the costumes of choice to be seen in at this year’s Festivals.

• Nell Gwynn Queen of Schnauzers - Combining the burlesque of prozzy, the regal of mythical, the manual of papier mache breast pumps, and the orange canine of dog taxidermy, this costume will literally have them eating out of your syphilitic hand.

• Donkey’s Knob – Your mate’s will love the ‘ironic boudoir fitting’ for many years to come. You’ll love walking round Bestival like a right Donkey's Knob in your phallic moulded body piece. (see also Shakespearean Bull’s Pizzle.

 • Vintage Tramp – Out vintage all your vintage vintageness by dressing up as a genuine vintage tramp from the 70’s. Army great coat, orange rope, litre of meths, one shoe off and a faecal stench. However, do be selective at which festival you choose to attend and rock this look. You may find yourself outnumbered at the St Leonard’s Music Festival and your originality somewhat diminished.

• Madchester Baggy Man – The reformed Stone Roses will be ‘the’ festival band to see this year, whilst the Happy Mondays, Charlatans, James, Inspiral Carpets and The Cressa Span all play festivals too. Dermo Dermoddywoddy’s Haberdashery of Moston will be happy to kit you out from the back of a Salford Van Hire transit. Costume required: - Barbour Acid Fell walking anorak from Millets, voluminous Joe Bloggs keks sewn and stitched by candlelight by the exploited third world children of Ardwick, pudding bowl basin and pair of safety scissors for that genuine Mary Quant meets Black Adder 1st haircut. Also included, pair of Chevallereau 1970 Kicker ‘jeanboots’ , with natural rubber eyelets, contrast stitching panels, appliques, flower shape tag and added dog shit in the crepe soles. Lastly a pair of Y fronts full of scuttling crabs to make you walk like a scuttling crab.

• One Direction Injection Infection – (requires 5 people) A ten-legged boy band zombie collective, you will sway around festival sites with your arms protruding outwards whilst moaning pitifully. Wearing Zombiefied makeup, sandy ragged jodhpurs, blood-stained bow ties and voluminously coiffured hair you will pretend to infect festival goers with the bland inguinal bubo virus whence forth they shall follow you to the hilt and swear blind allegiance to your zoonotic disease music.

• Kylie’s Rear - wander round like a great sequinned arse


10) If you get lost, stay calm. Walk towards the main stage, blag a back stage pass, blag a stage pass, then collect a microphone from a roadie with eczema. Stride purposefully up to the front of the stage and start up a ‘call-and-response’ routine a la David Rodigan MBE. Once you’ve made statements about the economic situation, political prisoners and the history of Aba Shanti, the crowd will love you so much and they’ll be ‘like totes on your side’ that you can just ask them where you are.

11) Avoid the legal high stalls. It all tastes like sand and tree bark and the only enlightened experience you will have is that you need to drink the equivalent of a paddling pool to recover. Head shop heads are renowned for the creative names for their products – Dragon’s Quiff, Sinstro’s Brain Scribe, Vulgate, and La Mort Artu Mitsu – whereas in reality they should be called, Liquidised Cork Matting, Ronseal Fine Sur Pollyfilla, Kiln Dried Sawdust, and Grated Kumquat Skin.

12) Befriend a foreign tourist. They always have nice biscuits.

13) Avoid itinerant Kiosk traders selling, Dodo Pate, Powdered Egg Omelettes, Arctic Monkey Roll and Spam Fritters. Ironically, round-the-back of the self-same kiosk, people are quite happy to ingest brick dust, rat poison, Castrol GTX and White Lightning.

14) Be aware of insect bites in tropical areas of the festival site. Beware tick bourne diseases and mosquitoes. Heather Mills should be aware of termites. Womad and Glyndebourne are now selling insects as a sustainable food source- cockroach paella anyone? Vegfest is still on the fence with regard to this as opposed to said termites who are actually in the fence.

15) Take a good book. Hours camped in front of the main stage waiting for the fireworks display and having to endure Cold Chisel can be really tedious.

16) Check out the reformed Stone Roses. Grown men would sell their Pollock spattered lawnmowers to experience this so stay ‘til the end ‘cos ‘ It ain’t over ‘til the flat laddy sings.’ (see #9 for dress code)

17) Rabies jabs may seem extreme but if you’ve ever experienced the moshpit at Download it is highly recommended.

18) You can easily spot the ‘It’ Girls. They always wear cowboy boots, Yoga T-shirts, Sombreros, 25 different wristbands (backstage and charity type), a Deadmaus’s tail, and a wilful look of disdain. They also carry a Libertines smack-chic kit and a potential Heat Magazine feature in their head.

19) Invariably wherever you camp, you will be next to a group of Welsh lads who shout, ‘Bollocks!’ quite a lot at four in the morning (see also two men arguing over who taught the other how to make heroin. Keith Allen, Why? And The Horrors new Trip Hop direction.

20) Don’t get really badly sunburnt. The medics will cover you in this treacley ointment type stuff and people will think you are a cross between a tramp, a pervert and Jodi Marsh and will avoid you at all costs.

21) Lanyard, Lanyard, Lanyard. In the Kingdom of the blind the one-eyed man is king; in the kingdom of the Festival the king wears lots of Lanyards, like a deeply disturbed insecure Olympic medallist, …..with lots of Lanyards!

22) Ever since Jay-Z ruled Glastonbury and made Noel Gallagher sound like a parochial teddy boy at a capital punk gig, hip hop has been here to stay at the festival. Be sure to catch Wobbly Scoundrel at Hatfield in the Park, Puffy Fetlock at Pebsham Tip, PI$H at the Portaloo Festival and Nicky’s Minaj backstage everywhere.

23) Festival First-Timers well worth checking out and telling the grandchildren about?

• PI$H - a mixtape of Cereal Bowl Ballads landed the Bristol rapper a hefty £500 record deal. Like Woody Guthrie rapping with Afrodizzie in a Diamanda Galas encrusted paddling pool.

• Hobbema – Feted by fetid retro-rock revolutionaries, Hobbema are set to be huge this year, not least because of lead singer, Mamma Wine Cask’s incredible vocal performances. She possesses a voice dripping in treacly black Cutter’s Choice phleghm and a soul as wide as a Dudley bus.

• Sodoma Congeal - The leaders of the new sub-sub-genre of rock ‘Black Pudding Metal’ undoubtedly call a grave digger’s spade a spade, with their lo-fi bluesy horror confessionals about the hardening of the arteries and cadaveric chambers of coagulated pig blood.

• Honthorst – Their debut album, Scoundrel Bus Mechanic, recalled the taught perfection of early Lieutenant Pigeon, while they’re promising a more ‘Glam’ follow-up. In frontman Archie Rodchenko, they also boast a hateful prick pip of a tosser.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012

MC Teutonic Vole


The decimation of the American ghettos in the mid-to-late 1980s by crack cocaine has well been documented. Then the fashion was for musicians to write about how awful the drug was. People like Puffy Fetlock would make songs like, ‘Night of the Morally Indefensible Cake Heads’ and do anti-crack speeches at Maryland KFC with people like Lil’ Vinegar Stroke and MC Zammo.
 Come the 1990s and gangsta rappers would admit to their Molls, that they sold it but only because the government made them do it. In 1995, Wu-Tang Clan’s Reekwok The Big Cheese Melt, made an album called ‘Only Built For Cuban Lynx’ that abandoned any kind of social commentary or moral posturing and talked explicitly about the day-to-day life of photosynthesising crack from South American aerosol deodorants. And thus crack rap was born and rappers started falling over themselves to ‘ahem’ cook up new metaphors for the drug and boasting how big their Agas and Rayburns were. This reached its pinnacle when Harlem rapper Juan King Azzle released a set of mix tapes entitled ‘The Crack Palaver Aga Sagas.’
 I mention this because I have just taken into my possession surely one of crack-rap’s rarest singles of all time, the mighty ‘Bashment’ by MC Teutonic Vole. Thought to be non-existent by connoisseurs of the genre, and the sole dream of its malicious maker, ‘the Vole’, I am happy to say that, yes, it really does exist! This filthy rancid crack-obsessed single, landed on my doormat only just yesterday and even the paper bag encasing it reeks of the naughty naughty stench of illicit crack houses and cocaine quiches. I have since done further research and it seems that only two were ever produced. Apparently the first of the pair was melted down on the Vole’s Beko and injected amongst his friends at a birthday party for his late Grandfather. Cultivated altruism clearly does exist within the poor crack dens of thieves, murderers and whores.
I have listened to this crack-heavy 7”over and over again since receiving it from a certain dealer in the States and have to say it is as addictive as the paper bag it is housed in; dangerous, hypnotic and completely crack-pot. MC Vole uses an invented language to spit his rhymes like a reinvented soldier being sewn back together again on a sinister stretcher by Vietnam military doctors, his repetitive barks and malicious fighter pilot screams shock with the rarest narratives ever laid down on vinyl. He crashes his hypnotic drug plane onto a 1990’s paranoid crack pipe and is thankfully rescued by friendly Laplanders and covered in fat like an Avant-garde Beuys but without the Gesamtkunstwerk. Essentially concrete poetry blended in a diesel powered, trolley-mounted mixer with baking soda.
MC Teutonic Vole freebases his lyrics with an impoverished joy, which defies categorisation; a fracture or discontinuation in a body of work which only seems to exist within his own head. There are some savagely beautiful couplets, my favourites being, ‘Yo, I pose by a stove, but that don’t make me no Pose, I ain’t willkommen here, but that’s ‘cos we ain’t goin’ out like a muther fukken snaggletooth’ and ‘Searchin’ my Aga for fuken whut, kudos ain’t fiat lux, danse society wang chung the physical dangers far outweigh the paranoia.’
Well worth the £200 price tag. 

Wednesday, 13 June 2012

Submerged Forest


Calling all Nautical Nihilists, Psyche Submariners, Acid Woodcraft Folk, Canterbury Scenesters, Migratory Beach Bums, Carpet Crawlers, Relentlessly Deranged Psychedelic Surfers, Neu Parasitoids, Pothead Mothers of Dementia, Crawling King Snakes, Dub Cabinet Key Keepers, Gentle Giants, Kosmische Pixies, Incredibly Strung-Out Bands, Crimson Kings, Peaking Light Crews, Iron Butterflies and Spiritual Forest Rangers; after last months 'road-block' session, The Submerged Forest returns with a selection of Cosmic, Afro, Psyche Rock, Acid Folk, Krautrock, Prog and Tropicalia. Come along and celebrate the burning death of many tinny Mp3s in a Wicker iPod at the alter of pure VINYL. Saturday 30th June @ The Royal Standard, Hastings Old Town.

Sunday, 10 June 2012

20 Acid House Memories

Acid House is over 20 years old!

To celebrate over 20 years of acid house, here's a top twenty of personal acid house memories.

1. Acepromazine. Avoid high vet bills by buying in bulk; 'Just ask for 'Toxteth John' mate, he's usually over there dressed in a poncho, dust mask, jumbo cords and Patrick Cox.' 'The lights man! The Fookin' Lights!' 'Fuck! I can't feel my leg!' 'Calm down, Heather, Paul'll be back in a minute.'

2. Ginsters pies/Cherry Bakewells/24 Hr Garage Scotch Eggs. Why, when your mouth is as dry as Tutankhamen's cod piece do you insist on eating 'food' which sucks any minute remaining particles of saliva out of your mouth? See also, 'skinning up' when your mouth resembles the inside of a Dundee Haddock Smoke-box. 'Giz a toot on yer water bokkle bro.'

3. Mark E Smith's covert trip to the Hacienda. Walked round all night and sneered at all the loved up twitchers and fashion faux-pas. Went home and wrote – 'Idiot groups with no shape or form-uh, out of their heads on a quid of blow-uh, the shapeless keks flapping on the storm-ah looking what they are, a pack of worms-ah.' 'Even if it's just me and your granny on spoons, it's still The fookin' Fall-ah'.

4. Fractals. Shit hippy graphics for pinned out eyeballs. 'Look mate, did you just see that galaxy just being born?' 'No, mate, I did not. It just looks like someone's tipped a load of food colouring into a salt pot.'

5. The Farm on a Short Film About Chilling. Give a bunch of chippie clad 'chippies' some guitars and send them to the Balearics and what do you get? The Las go baggy with worse clothes.

6. The bloke selling bathroom tiles at the infamous Glastonbury mud bath. 'Only dry place to skin up my friends! Get one of Tony's Tiles now while they last'.

7. Sweaty long haired lads from Leeds wearing leather keks and rubbing Tiger balm into your temples without consent. Some high court judges pay a small fortune for this experience and yet at Back To Basics it was de rigueur.

8. The bandana, cycling shorts Wallabies and blouse look on the male raver always caused much piss taking. Still seen worn to this day by members of Age of Chance, footballers and sex pests at Dudley coach station public toilets.

9. Flowered Up. Like a cross between The Happy Mondays, Canadian rockers Rush and a Berwick St. vegetable seller's convention. Chuck in a bloke who looked like Peter Gabriel after a few years in Broadmoor, and you're cooking on gas.

10. The Orb playing in Manchester at such bowel quaking velocity that the queue for the bogs grew five times as long with legitimate punters banging on the door pleading with the gak nosed munters within. Weatherall came on afterwards and played the most blistering acid house set ever. So hard, it scorched the ambient skin off the bobble hatted hippy brigade.

11. Pilled up on Boxing Day watching Man City away at Stoke, waving a big fucking inflatable banana between a man waving a paddling pool and a lad waving an inflatable fried egg.

12. Hearing Voodoo Ray for the very first time at Hot 88 and realizing that the aliens had well and truly landed. Pushing through those huge rubber butcher's curtains into the main dance area and grinning. Spin In Records the next day, 'Yeah, uh, I'd like that one that goes, wooo-ooo-ooo-oo-ah-ah-yeah!' See also, Fini Tribe – Die Testimony/Thrashing Doves – Jesus On The Payroll/ Sure Beats Working – Sure Beats Working/ Phuture – Phuture/ Tyree – Acid Over.

13. Orbital playing the Belinda Carlisle sampling Halcyon at Glastonbury 94 and then encoring with Chime. If I could find the little 13 year old gypsy crusty who sorted me out that evening, I'd buy him a beer and shake his plastic hand.

14. Kids in Dixons tapping out tunes on Roland TB 303 equivalents and having more 'soul' in their music than the whole Stock, Aitken and Waterman back catalogue put together. See also 808 State's New Build. The Never Mind The Bollocks of Acid House.

15. Stone Roses taking fifteen hours to come on stage in Birmingham and playing acid house for the duration. We woz lovin' it but the dyed-in-the-wool indie sheep were suffering twat faced apoplexy of the highest order. See also the infamous Top of the Pops with Stone Roses, Happy Mondays and New Order. Barney doing the Bez dance felt like a storming of the fucking barricades.

16. Having a cheeky puff outside of Hastings pier ballroom whilst Digweed was on and getting into a chat with an over-sexed mental. Every two seconds he was like, 'Jeez mate, look at her, FWOOR!' and 'Bloody hell mate, I'd give her one! Oooar!'. Turns out his mate was a pig farmer and he'd managed to procure some tablets from him which were designed to get the swines shagging.

17. Having mates and brother come and party in Nottingham with me in smiley T-s, Kickers and Joe Bloggs when all around was barrow boy caps, MA1s with Lenin badges and steel toe capped Docs. Female clubber – 'Why are you dancing like that? This is Hip Hop.' Our Kid - 'Fuck off! I'm from Manchester'

18. Stu Allen playing Acid House for the first time on his predominantly Hip Hop/Soul based show on Piccadilly Radio 87/88. 'Woah, massive!'

19. Watching Primal Scream 'do' Screamadelica in its entirety in Glasgow. Was going out with a female youth worker at the time who spent a lot of time 'ahem' educating about drug misuse in the Gorbals. Jumped in a taxi afterwards and sped off to a warehouse party by the docks. Acid house all night long.

20. Listening to 'Can You Feel It' with the MLK speech underneath from a car tape player at Sale water park as the sun came up and realized that things couldn't get any better.

Oh go on then, one more

21. Joe Smooth – Promised Land

Friday, 8 June 2012

Child Catcher


White card stencil. Stanley blade hand cut out and placed over black card.
Frame 54cmx44cm signed and dated.


With his spindly legs, milky complexion and funereal garb, Robert Helpmann's spooky child catcher was creepy enough to give anyone nightmares. A master of disguise, he came equipped with a net, a hook and an elongated nose capable of sniffing out nippers at 20 paces.




One single piece of card hand cut with a Stanley Knife, laid onto wooden floorboards to demonstrate the stencil technique. Image is produced from the same piece of card. Image then mounted onto black card. Signed and dated.




FOR SALE - £100

Wednesday, 6 June 2012

The Wicker Man


White card stencil. Stanley blade hand cut out and placed over black card.
Frame 54cmx44cm signed and dated.


One single piece of card hand cut with a Stanley Knife, laid onto wooden floorboards to demonstrate
the stencil technique. Image is produced from the same piece of card. Image then mounted onto black card. Signed and dated.


Detail 1.


Detail 2.

FOR SALE - £100

Monday, 4 June 2012

Desperate House Music Wives

Hysteria Lane.

Staines.

Essex.

It’s just approaching 8.30am on a Friday morning and already a hungry mob is baying at the door of ‘BBT’ or, for doze dat know, ‘Bree’s Bangin’ Tunes’; a record shop on the shadowy fringes of dance music culture with a bizarrely calibrated pecking order within.

Bree Van de Camp As Christmas, a Dutch Gabba immigrant born of Dlugosch stock, set up BBT with a coffee shop loan of shirty faff guildersh back in the day.
“Faaakkin’ ‘ell! I neeeed that new Quentin ‘arris tune!” brays a Burberried-up Edie ‘Lovelace’ Britt, a woman who over the years has succumbed to varying degrees of beat surrender. Happily married to King Britt for several years Edie, can’t get enough of that 4x4 sound. “Can’t fakkin’ wait to get it ‘ome and fakkin’ ‘Ave IT!! ‘Urry up Bree and open the fakkin’ door!”
“If she’s only got the one copy, you ain’t touching it wiv your sweaty mitts, Edie” replies Gabrielle Sanchez, “Bree said it’s got my fakkin’ name all over it!”
“I tell you wot,” interrupts Susan Morillo, “I’m gagging to get my hands on those new Krivit edits. Cannot fakkin’ wait!”
“Ha! I picked those up last week!” brags Lynette Jefferson Airplane. “Bree sorted me right out. You’re behind the times, innit? It’s now all about the Soap Bar a Thyme remixes by Frankie Knuckles!”
“Frankie Knuckles!? Frankie Fakkin Knuckles?!?!” squawks Edie, he’s a right old fakkin’ codger!”
“He’s only the fakkin’ Godfather of house music you fakkin’ ingrate. Personally I can’t wait to get some fakkin’ Knuckles action!”
''Oi bet you fakkin' can't you cant!''
“For me it’s all about the new fakkin’ Clausell mix album. Proper moves my body and soul he does” purrs Gabrielle. I’ll ‘ave some of Joe’s fakkin’ Jackin’ any fakkin’ day of the year!”
“Eee’s a fakkin’ hippy wot wears a tea towel on ‘is fakkin’ head, innit? I wouldn’t touch ‘im with a Kenny Hawke’s bargepole!” remonstrates Edie. “It’s all about the fakkin’ Lindstrom white label at the moment anyway. Bree’s sortin’ me right out in there. Only 100 copies in the whole of the world and you ain’t even getting’ a sniff!”
“I don’t give a fack about all that Norwegian bollocks! It’s all about Theo anyway. ‘Now That’s What I Call An Ugly Edit #33’, to be precise! Benji’s been fakkin’ caining it since this morning! Fakkin laaverly!"
“Theo’s alright for when I’m doing me hoovering” says Lynette, “but you can’t beat a bit of Timmy Regisford when you’re bonking the milkman, innit?”
“You fakkin’ slapper Lynette! You ain’t got no pride, innit? God I hope Bree opens up soon I’m gagging for some ‘ouse music me. Bladdy freezin’ me tits off as well.”
“Bladdy ‘ell! Look in the window! They’ve only gone and repressed Acid Trax! I used to proper cane that back in the day.”
“Yeah and look at that! A poster of Sasha! Ha ha! I used to think he was fakkin’ lush back in the day. I remember travelling up to Shellys in King’s beamer to see him. Fakkin’ proper ‘e was.”
“My old man used to drive me round in a beamer n’ all. Treated me like a right fakkin’ princess ‘e did. Took me up West and treated me like fakkin’ royalty. Guestlist business at all the best fakkin’ clubs. Bought me a Rottweiler called Moby. Right little cant ‘e woz. The dog not the star, although ‘e’s not all that either innit!
“Nah! It’s all about the fakkin’ newness” says Susan. That Antonio Casio Keyboard tune, Higher Pukka Love is a proper fakkin deep affair. I’m gagging to get that me.”
“Wait, wait!” interrupts Edie, “Look, look, it’s Bree!! Bree’s comin’ to unlock the fakkin’ door! WooHoo!!”
“Let’s fakkin’ ‘Ave it BREEEEEEEE!!”
“Let’s ‘AVE SOME FAAAAKIN’ ‘OUSE MUSIC!!!!”

Miles Davis


Here is a Miles Davis piece I produced. Charcoal on white card. Signed and Framed
 46 x 55cm





For Sale - £80